What Jacob wants, Jacob gets. A spicy meeting in the office, after everyone else has gone home. Public sex, hot and rough. In a co-worker's cubicle, perhaps, or better yet, up against the windows, where the entire city could watch if only they knew where to look. What Jacob wants, Jacob gets. And what Jacob wants is me.

Note: This story is included in the author’s anthology, Whetting the Appetite.

EXCERPT:Note: may contain sexually explicit scenes of a homoerotic nature.

He pauses a beat, then says, "You're not having second thoughts, are you?"

"No!" I do look up, then, into those amazing eyes. They're heavy-lidded, pupils blown wide with anticipated lust. I take a moment, as I always do, to marvel that such a look could possibly be for me -- and then I stand, put my hands on his chest. "No," I repeat. "No second thoughts."

Jacob smiles, warm and welcoming, and kisses me. His five o'clock shadow rasps against my lips and chin, a tantalizing roughness that contrasts the gentle way his hand cups the back of my head, fingers twining through my hair. I feel my knees wobbling and surrender to the kiss, opening my mouth to the explorations of his tongue.

Just as I think I'm going to have to let him hold me up entirely, the kiss ends and he backs away a step. I draw a shaky breath and he catches my hand. "Come on," he says, and pulls me out into the narrow corridor between cubicles.

I follow gamely until I realize he is not selecting a co-worker's cubicle to defile, but leading me to the floor-to-ceiling windows. My step lags. "Jacob?"

He glances over his shoulder with a mischievous grin. "Did you know that there's a blind spot in the security cameras, at the end of this corridor?" he asks.

"There is not."

"Really, there is. Tested it myself." He reaches the end of the corridor and shows me a piece of paper taped to the window, advertising a church bake sale.

"You put that up?" I am dubious.

"Almost a week ago." Jacob grins and pulls me up close to the window, takes me in his arms again. I want to protest, but he's kissing me again, the sort of long, slow kiss that never fails to make me melt.